And She Looked Good
by Color With Marker
Summary: Mimi's encounter with Angel when she experienced those few seconds of death.


Mimi struggled to hold in another breath. Her body shook violently. The fever she had made everything seem hot, but she shivered from the cool Christmas Eve air. The metal table beneath her was uncomfortable. Roger held onto her tightly, tears forming in his eyes as he held her hands close to his chest.

This was is. It was the end of Mimi Marquez.

She craned her neck to see Mark, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne watching her, tears forming in their eyes. Just two months ago, Angel was in her position, and Mimi and Collins almost never left the hospital. The one time Mimi did go, she got a phone call at work from the hospital. She ended up breaking down backstage and having none other than Benny comforting her as she cried for hours.

She had been able to get out of rehab. She was twenty years old; she could make her own decisions. She checked herself out and, after debating it in her head, went right for The Man. She was lucky to have been able to sneak into her apartment and grab all of her money and a needle before finding him. She had been living in alleys with other bums she was familiar with. Most of the time it was with Squeegee Man, who, like The Man, never told anyone his real name. He was just a homeless man who washed people's windows with a squeegee in hopes of making a few bucks. Last Christmas Eve, a man blared his horn and sped off, nearly hitting Squeegee Man.

After that, she decided that park benches were more comfortable than cockroach covered blankets from dumpsters. All Mimi knew at the time was that it was almost Christmas Eve, only yesterday. She spent her first night on a bench, and she walked around the next day, today, rubbing her arms to try to keep warm, desperate to find The Man. Withdrawl was too much for her. She needed smack running through every vein in her body to feel good. He must've been doing something else then, because she couldn't find him at all. She just tried to make it back to the bench she slept on as dusk fell and streetlamps lit up. She made it halfway before her vision went blurry, she began feeling lightheaded, and she felt everything spinning under her feet. There were two familiar cries of her name, two voices from long ago that she vaguely remembered before collapsing onto the ground.

Next thing she knew, she was being held in Joanne's arms, and Maureen was calling up to the loft to Mark, Roger, and Collins. She remembered Collins and Roger carrying her inside, setting her down on the table and covering her with a leather jacket. Collins tried calling 9-1-1 but was put on hold.

And now Roger is over her, holding on tight as she hacked violently into the crook of her elbow, tears in his eyes, and the melodious tune of his new song sung softly. Her body went numb. She was beginning to feel tired. She couldn't cough anymore; she lacked the energy to. Her eyes fluttered shut as she heard the last words from the love of her life;

_"I have always loved you; you can see it in my eyes..."_

* * *

_The energy came back to Mimi instantly. She was no longer in Roger's arms, or in the loft for that matter. Mark wasn't there. Collins wasn't there. Maureen and Joanne weren't there. She wasn't wrapped in the rocker's favorite leather jacket. She was alone in a tunnel, with a warm, bright light coming from the end of it. In Mimi's mind, something seemed wrong about it, but she slowly rose to her feet and headed to that light. As she crept closer, it felt comforting. Maybe it was the fact that they turned off her heat and never felt it anymore? What was the white light? Was it a better place than the Alphabet City she's grown accustomed to over the past few years? Was this the place where the scars from the Nevers and Maybes die?_

_But a hand fell on her shoulder. She spun around, and there she was. Angel Dumott Schunard was standing before her, in an outfit similar to the one she wore every Christmas, but all white. Her favorite wig, a black bob cut, sat perfectly on her head. Her drumsticks were in her belt. She wasn't as pale and decrepit as she had been the last time she saw her. She wasn't in a coffin. Mimi's best friend was standing before her._

_And she looked good._

_"Angel..." Mimi was at a loss for words. She just hugged her friend. Warm tears fell down her cheeks. "Chica, I..."_

_"Turn around girlfriend," Angel said, "and listen to that boy's song." Mimi was confused, until she heard her name being sung by Roger;_

_"MIMI!"_

_She could even hear him crying too._

_Mimi looked at Angel, who just smiled and nodded. She didn't ask about Collins. Nor Mark. Nor Maureen and Joanne. She just wanted Mimi to live._

* * *

Her hand twitched a few times before being able to make a fist. Her eyes shot open to see Roger crying.

"I jumped over the moon!" the Latina gasped as the sight of the loft came into vision.

"What?" he asked, oblivious that she was still alive somehow.

"A leap of- moo!" She sat up and everyone rushed over to her.

"She's back!" Joanne cried.

"I was in a tunnel. Heading for this warm, white light..."

"Oh my god," Maureen breathed.

"And I swear, Angel was there," Mimi claimed, looking right at Collins. "And she looked _good!_" He let out a laugh at that; of course Angel looked good. That was what she always strived for. "And she said, 'Turn around girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song'..." She looked at Roger, who was still in shock. A smile grew on his face. Mimi felt the back of someone's hand on her forehead.

"She's drenched," Collins said.

"Her fever's breaking," Maureen added.

"There is no future," Mark said. "There is no past."

Roger looked into Mimi's eyes and said, "Thank God this moment's not the last."


End file.
